by C. J. Busby
“So you must be descended from him as well,” said Simon, his voice neutral. “Aren’t you?”
The man looked hard at Simon, and frowned. After a heartbeat, he said, “Yes. Do you doubt it?”
Simon looked down. Too pointed, he thought. He mustn’t let them suspect that he knew.
“I just wondered,” he said nervously. “Maybe it was from Mum’s side rather than yours … But that’s mad, of course. It was your sword, after all, wasn’t it? So you must be Bruni’s heir, too.”
The man watched him for a moment.
“Yes – it was my sword,” he said finally, and then smiled warmly. “And you’re learning to use it in fine style. Ravenglass?” As Simon moved away, Lukos gestured to Lord Ravenglass to approach. Simon watched as the two consulted in low voices. He wiped the sweat from his face with the velvet jacket that he’d thrown aside as he started fighting.
After a while, Lord Ravenglass came over and ruffled Simon’s hair in a friendly gesture.
“Well done, my boy,” he said. “A good day’s progress. But I think maybe you’d better get back to your sister now. She’ll be bored, stuck in your chambers with just Myrtle for company.”
Simon nodded, and Lord Ravenglass pulled on his embroidered velvet coat and sheathed his sword. As they left, Simon saw him turn to the prisoner and make an odd gesture. The man, his blue eyes burning into Simon’s brown ones, nodded slowly and then raised his hand to Simon in farewell.
Simon gave him a thumb’s up sign and tried to grin, but his mouth didn’t feel as if it was wholly cooperating. He had a feeling it had come out rather more like a grimace. Lord Ravenglass patted him on the back and ushered him out of the cellar and up the spiral staircase. Simon crossed his fingers and hoped Cat and the others had had enough time to do what they needed to do.
Lord Ravenglass’s chambers were usually cleaned every morning by the senior under-footman and the chief chambermaid. Today, however, the senior under-footman had been struck down by a terrible stomach ache, and Ollie Bowbuckle had heroically offered to take his place. Very few of the servants liked going anywhere near Lord Ravenglass’s rooms, so they were thoroughly grateful for Ollie’s self-sacrifice. The chief chambermaid, Verity Pond, was particularly pleased, as she had had a bit of a crush on Ollie ever since the young lad had been taken on at the palace.
As they opened the door to Lord Ravenglass’s antechamber, Verity turned to Ollie with a smile she’d been practising for ages in the mirror and said brightly, “So, would you like to do the privy, or shall I?”
To her amazement, Ollie grabbed her round the waist and gave her a passionate kiss on the lips while kicking the door shut behind them with one foot. Verity barely had time to return the embrace before she felt the light touch of a spell, and the next moment she was out cold on the floor.
Albert Jemmet, standing just behind her, wagged his finger at Ollie and shook his head in mock disapproval. “I said distract her, young man. Kissing was not called for.”
Ollie looked sheepish. “I’ve been meaning to do that for ages,” he said. “It seemed the ideal opportunity. And you have to admit, it did distract her.”
Cat, emerging from behind a tapestry, grinned at him. “You might have some explaining to do when we revive her,” she said. “But really, it’s worked out quite well. You can tell her she fainted from the shock!”
Ollie blushed, and grinned back. “I think she liked it,” he said.
Great-Aunt Irene rapped her cane on the floor in an imperious manner. “Enough foolishness,” she said. “We have to get this amber while Simon’s distracting Ravenglass. To work!”
It didn’t take them very long to find the place where Lord Ravenglass had put the amber. It was in full view, in a glass display case very close to his bed. The tricky part was going to be undoing all the hexes and spells that surrounded it without setting off any magical alarms or booby traps. Great-Aunt Irene contemplated the amber for a few minutes then turned to Cat.
“I can see the spells,” she said. “It’s one of the advantages of being dead. One can see in so many more dimensions. But I can’t do any magic myself, so I rather think you’re going to have to do it, my dear.”
Cat was taken aback. “But Albert …” she said.
“Not up to this sort of thing,” said Albert cheerfully. “This is deep magic – Ravenglass is a master. But you’ve got the ability, Cat. It’s in the blood. And your great-aunt will help.”
“W-what do I have to do?” said Cat.
Great-Aunt Irene gave her an encouraging smile. “There’s no time to teach you the niceties, I’m afraid,” she said. “I think the best thing is if I hold on to you. Then you should be able to see the spells the way I see them. After that it’s … Well – you just need to unravel them.”
Cat felt Great-Aunt Irene’s ghostly hands take hold of her, like two delicate icy bits of lace settling onto her shoulders, and suddenly she could see that the glass cabinet in front of her was covered in silvery strands of spell-work. She approached it cautiously and put her hand out to the nearest strand. She could see where it looped across the cabinet door, and the way it was entwined with another silvery strand that passed the door in the other direction.
“Just gently pull them apart,” came Great-Aunt Irene’s voice from over her shoulder. “But at the same time, use your magic to dissolve them. Think of them as made of ice. Use the warmth of your hands to melt them.”
Cat took hold of one of the strands and tried to imagine it as a filigree of ice … As she pulled at it carefully and steadily, she saw that it was indeed fading, shimmering into nothing. More confidently, she took hold of the next piece and willed it to disappear, melt away. With growing excitement she realised that the many silvery spells that surrounded the cabinet were all fading, one after the other, as her counter-magic passed down the threads. Finally, the door clicked open, and she reached in cautiously. There was one final spell on the amber – darker and thicker than the others. Cat took hold of it and shivered. It was almost as if Lord Ravenglass were standing there, his elegant white hands holding hers in a cold grip. Her whole body felt frozen, and the cold seemed to be seeping along her veins, reaching into her mind.
“Don’t let the spell get you!” said Great-Aunt Irene urgently in her ear. “Fight it, Cat! Break it – now!”
Cat made a huge effort to move, and found she could just twitch her fingers. Quickly, before the spell froze her again, she pulled at the strand and sent a fierce command down to her fingertips: Dissolve! For a moment it was like pushing against a barrier and then, with a sudden lurch, the spell was gone, and the amber was in her hands.
Cat gave a great sigh of relief and slipped the chain over her head. As she looked around, she saw that Albert and Ollie between them had cleaned and tidied the room, and bright sunshine was flooding in from the arched window by Lord Ravenglass’s bed.
“H-how long?’ she asked, confused.
“Three hours,” said Albert. “Tricky spells though – well done, Cat! But now I think we need to scarper, pronto. Young Simon won’t be able to keep them busy much longer.”
He turned to Great-Aunt Irene. “You’ll be coming with us,” he said. “But what do we do about the queen?”
Great-Aunt Irene looked troubled. “I think we’ll have to leave her here,” she said. “I couldn’t persuade her otherwise. She says her place is in the kingdom. She insists she’s on her guard now, and more than a match for Ravenglass.” She sniffed. “Of course, she would be if she had all her wits. As it is, he certainly won’t get the amber off her … Unless he can draw on the power of the other pieces.”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t get them,” said Albert grimly. “Meanwhile, young Ollie will be here.” He put his hand on Ollie’s shoulder and looked at him with a serious expression. “You’ll have to be our agent here, for now. Can you keep an eye on the queen? Stand ready if we need you?”
Ollie nodded solemnly, and then bowed to Cat.
“Good luck, Lady Catrin,” he said. “I hope we meet again.”
She grinned and gave him a thump on the back. Then she, Great-Aunt Irene and Albert slipped out of the door. Just as they left, Albert snapped his fingers over Verity’s prostrate form and she opened her eyes.
“W-what?” she said, looking round in confusion.
“You fainted,” said Ollie, and winked at her. “So I did all the cleaning by myself.”
Simon got back to their North Tower chambers to find that Cat, Albert and Great-Aunt Irene were all there and had already conjured a portal. The shimmering misty doorway stood in the corner of Cat’s bedroom, and Albert was holding the slightly battered old screwdriver he’d used to conjure it.
“It’ll take us back to my workshop,” he said as he saw Simon looking at the screwdriver. “Thought it safest, all in all. Don’t want to go materialising in the kitchen of your house right in front of your mum, do we?”
“Was it all right?” said Cat, giving Simon a squeeze on the shoulder. Her blue eyes, so like Gwyn’s, were sympathetic.
Simon nodded. “It was – a bit difficult. But mostly I was too busy learning to use a sword. There wasn’t too much talking. Did you get the amber?”
Cat pulled the jewel out from under her T-shirt and showed him. Her expression was triumphant. “I did magic to get it,” she said. “Me! It was amazing!”
“Well done,” said Simon, but he felt rather put out at the news. Cat had the amber, after all. It wasn’t fair if she got to be a spell-user as well.
“Enough chit-chat,” said Great-Aunt Irene. “We need to go. Albert – your arm …”
Albert took Great-Aunt Irene’s arm and strode into the misty doorway. Simon looked at Cat and they both stepped smartly after him. Behind them, the mist popped out of existence.
Albert’s workshop was a large lock-up garage on the edge of Wemworthy. It was full of strange contraptions and old bits of broken motorbike. In pride of place at one end was a large old-fashioned armchair, and next to that was a small table with a paraffin stove, a kettle, mugs and a teapot. Albert hesitated a moment in front of the stove and then shrugged.
“We can get a cup of tea at your mum’s,” he said. “Best be getting on.”
“How are we going to get there?” said Cat.
Albert grinned and strode to the front of the lock-up, where a heavy old tarpaulin was tucked lovingly around an oddly-shaped object. Pulling the tarpaulin back, he pointed to an extremely battered old motorbike and adjacent sidecar.
“My trusty Norton,” he said proudly. “You can ride pillion, Cat. Simon and your great-aunt can share the sidecar.”
PART SEVEN
Chapter Twenty-one
The fact that it was dusk, and rush hour, meant that the sudden appearance of four strange figures on Platform 6 of London’s Waterloo Station passed unnoticed. But even in rush hour, it proved impossible for Dora, Jem and Inanna to manoeuvre the heavily bleeding Druid along the platform without attracting attention.
“Oh my God, he’s been shot!” cried a woman in very high heels, her hand to her mouth.
“What’s going on here?”
“Call the police!”
“Easy there, easy now,” said a sturdy young man with dreadlocks, who had moved forward to catch the Druid as he slumped to the ground. “What happened? Are you all right?” He felt the damp patch on the Druid’s jacket and then looked at the blood on his hand in shock. “He’s been stabbed. Someone call an ambulance!”
The woman in high heels fumbled for her phone and a crowd started to gather. Dora, Jem and Inanna moved protectively round the Druid, not quite sure what to do. The man who’d caught the Druid put his hand out to Inanna, who was trembling, and asked if she was all right.
“Were you with him? Did you see who did it?”
Inanna shook her head. “I–I–I don’t … I can’t,” she said, and her hand went to her mouth. “Everything feels wrong!” she wailed.
Jem put his arm round her and made soothing noises. Dora could see that she was suffering from the shock of being in a new world – one that was utterly different to her own. Dora herself was finding the station an extremely alien place and even though she’d been prepared for the flat, unmagical feel of Simon and Cat’s world, the noise of the trains and the crackling announcements and the press of people was making her head ache.
An older woman pushed her way through the crowd and knelt down by the Druid.
“I’m a nurse,” she said. “Let me have a look at him.” The young man moved away to give her room and she gently started to examine the Druid’s wounds.
“It’s all right, it’s under control,” the young man said. He gestured at the crowds. “Give the guy some space, now. Move along.”
Gradually the press of people lessened and the man turned to Dora.
“Is he your dad?’ he said, indicating the Druid, who was now completely unconscious. “Is there anyone I can call? Your mum, maybe?”
Dora gave him a bewildered look. Call? How was he going to call anyone useful to this obscure corner of a non-magical world? He couldn’t possibly know any summoning spells!
“On the mobile,” said Jem, who had paid more attention to the electronic innovations of this world last time he’d been here. “He means on a mobile phone. Like Cat’s.”
He turned to the man confidently. “No – there’s no one. Just us, and our … er … dad. Will he be all right?”
The woman looked up and nodded. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” she said. “But he should be fine – if we can get him to a hospital.”
As she spoke there was a commotion at the other end of the platform, and then two men in green overalls were heading towards them with a stretcher and a large bag of equipment. In no time, the Druid was trussed up on the stretcher and Dora, Jem and Inanna were being bundled along the platform and out into the busy main road. There, a bright yellow ambulance was waiting to rush them all to the accident and emergency department of St Thomas’s Hospital.
The Druid had a broken wrist, a nasty stab wound to the chest, and a number of other cuts and bruises that appeared to have been administered with sharp blades. The police were less than happy with the inability of Jem, Dora or Inanna to account for the wounds or to give them any sensible explanation of who they were, where they lived, and why they were all in fancy dress. Eventually the sergeant in charge decided to allow them to remain with their ‘father’ for the night – mainly due to Dora’s convincing tears and Inanna’s tendency to bite anyone who tried to remove her. He told the hospital he would be making arrangements for them to go to temporary foster care in the morning, but until then, they could stay. The hospital staff managed to find some proper clothes for them all and generously moved some armchairs into the Druid’s room for them to sleep on.
The Druid had been given painkillers and a strong sedative, so it was nearly dawn before he regained consciousness. Dora was hovering anxiously over his bed, wondering whether to shake him, when he twitched and opened his eyes. He took a moment to focus, and then grimaced.
“Where?” he said, his voice rather hoarse.
“Simon and Cat’s world,” she replied. “They took us to some sort of … healing place. A hospital, they said.”
The Druid took a moment to digest this, and then looked down at his body, pinned to the bed with crisp cotton sheets and a blue blanket. His left arm was in a sling and he appeared to be wearing a blue hospital gown, tied at the back. He groaned.
“Awake then?” said Jem, jumping up from the chair where he’d been dozing. “At last! We need to get out of here, before they lock us all up in these foster places they’ve been threatening us with.”
The Druid tried to sit up, but the blankets defeated him. Jem pulled them loose and gave him a hand to get upright. The Druid ran his uninjured hand through the bits of his hair that were not under a bandage, and then pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to focus. Inanna, who had been asleep on the floor by his bed, sat up an
d yawned.
“I am not impressed with this world at all!” she said. “The floor is extremely hard and the food is disgusting!”
The Druid glanced across at her and his shoulders slumped. “We have the princess of Ur-Akkad with us?” he said in disbelief. “Just to make things a little more difficult?”
Dora nodded apologetically. “She wanted to escape from Akkad – she’s got magic, she was worried she’d be found out and imprisoned. And then at the end, it was all so fast. Smith and Jones were there. We couldn’t just leave her behind …”
The Druid held up his hand to stop her. “It’s all right. It’s fine. I understand.” He closed his eyes and thought for a few moments. When he opened them, he looked more cheerful.
“We’ll go to Cat and Simon’s house,” he said. “If we get there early enough, Florence will be at work and we can get hold of them without her knowing. Then Cat can use her amber to send us to the forest.”
“We’ve got the fire amber,” said Jem, nodding at Inanna. “Could you use that one?”
The Druid gave Inanna an interested look. “You’re wearing it?” he asked, and she nodded, her hand coming up to where the jewel was nestled just under her newly acquired T-shirt.
“It cooled down quite quickly after I picked it up,” she said. “So I thought it was safest round my neck.”
“It’s very likely you’re an heir,” said the Druid thoughtfully. “You’re of royal blood, after all. And it’s quite possible you could use it. But it would be risky. Controlling a piece of amber when you’ve only just taken possession of it – all sorts of things could go wrong.”
Dora frowned. “Cat did it fine.”
“Cat,” said the Druid with a smile, “is a very exceptional young lady. I wouldn’t want to bet on it working out a second time. Besides, the fire amber is notoriously tricky.”
Inanna raised one eyebrow. “I am sure I could use it if you showed me how,” she said, tossing her head. The jewels in her braids clinked together as she gave the Druid a haughty look.
